Of Cheesy Passwords, Tattoos, and Unlikely Friends
by random rambler
Summary: Minerva McGonagall contemplates her first years on the night of the Sorting. Marauder Era. Part of my Avalonian Knights Series.


A/N: This is my first fanfic, so I would love constructive criticism. Please don't flame, though I don't think there's anything terribly offensive in here. This is the first one-shot in my Avalonian Knights Series, which is at the moment a collection of half-finished one-shots, and a multi-chapter fic that I've barely started. I'll try to get some more stuff up over the next couple of weeks, so you'll be less confused, but don't expect any miracles.

Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I would have money, Snape would be alive, and the seventh book would have been less weird.

Of Cheesy Passwords, Tattoos, and Unlikely Friendships

It had been Minerva McGonagall's tradition to enter the Gryffindor Common Room after the Sorting and the subsequent feast, and explain the rules to her new charges, as well as any returning ones who needed to hear them again. This year, she would follow that practice, though it would be somewhat more complex this year. Dumbledore had decided to put in place a number of new security measures, in response to the growing threat posed by Lord Voldemort. Minerva shuddered as she made her way down the seventh floor corridor. Even thinking the name brought to mind some of the images that had been splashed across the Daily Prophet.

"Password?" The Fat Lady's query yanked Minerva from her thoughts. With a start, she realized that she had been standing in front of the portrait hole for at least a few seconds.

"Courage," she said, inwardly irritated by Dumbledore, who insisted on choosing the first password of the year. He always picked rather cheesy passwords.

"Correct," the Fat Lady replied, and the portrait hole swung open.

Minerva easily climbed through it and entered the Common Room, marveling at how little it had changed. The same hardwood tables, the same cushy armchairs scattered about in small groups, the same, well some of the same children, some of them scared, others confident. She moved to the fireplace, her usual speech giving spot, surreptitiously observing the students as she do so. Most of them were talking, not paying the slightest attention to her. Perfect. If they weren't ready to listen, she wasn't ready to talk. So she kept observing them, feeling oddly grateful to have a moment to gather her thoughts.

Her eyes first fell on a group of small boys, likely her first years. There were four of them, no wait, five. Leprechaun O'Kennedy stood silently in a corner, watching his housemates. She had only met the boy a few times, enough to know that no one, not a single person on earth, called him by his real name, Richard. Instead, the tall redhead was almost exclusively known by that ridiculous nickname. She hoped he wouldn't be ostracized because of it, though when she looked closer, she was surprised no one had run screaming from the boy. He had blue tattoos in his face. Merlin's beard, on his face! A small sun, really just a circle surrounded by triangles; three triangles that looked like claw marks; and the sign of the trinity that his family was so famous for, decorated the boy's features. If Minerva were a betting woman, she would have laid twenty Galleons on the fact that there were similar tribal markings all over his body. She had gone to school with Leprechaun's father, after all, and Alan wasn't shy about taking off his shirt in the Quiddich locker room. Hell's bells, her former classmate had seemed proud of them. Minerva had no doubt that Leprechaun had his father's confidence.

She next turned her attention to her other anomaly, Sirius Black. Minerva had been forced to pinch herself when the Hat had Sorted the boy into her house. She didn't remember even hearing about a Black who was put into Gryffindor. Things like that just didn't happen. Though now that she thought about it, Sirius seemed determined to buck the trend. He sat with James Potter, who came from as law-abiding a family as one could want; and was almost lovingly tying his gold and red tie about his neck. He seemed pleased to be a Gryffindor. He also seemed like a troublemaker, Minerva thought, already dreading the first prank. Most first years sat quietly and didn't cause trouble for at least a week. Sirius was already talking about looking for secret passageways. Minerva loved her cat-like hearing. Any advantage she could get over troublemaking students was a blessing in her eyes.

Sirius was sitting next to James Potter, who also seemed interested in exploring, but kept glancing over to another circle of chairs, this one occupied by the first year girls. Four of them talked animatedly, but the fifth, the apparent object of Mr. Potter's attention, was taking little part in the conversation. She was pretty, with long red hair and green eyes, but she was plainly nervous. She was Muggle-born, Minerva remembered. Lily Evans. She and Leprechaun had evidently met, as she glanced at him and he grinned back reassuringly. After a moment, Lily got up and went over. The pair settled into a conversation, Leprechaun looking down from his superior height, Lily smiling back. Minerva almost laughed to see James Potter's expression. He clearly had a crush on Lily and was jealous of Leprechaun.

A draft from an open window swept through the room, and with it brought an odd scent to Minerva's nose, too subtle for anyone without an Animagus form with excellent senses. She puzzled over the slight odor for a moment, then identified it as a werewolf. It wasn't a wolfish scent, just a bit stronger than a normal human. It was Remus Lupin, a small skinny boy, who sat with James and Sirius. She had been a bit nervous about allowing a werewolf to enter the school, but, as she reminded herself, he was only dangerous a couple of days each month. The rest of the time, he was just a boy, and if he was let slip through the cracks, he could be_ really_ dangerous. Best to keep him firmly on the light side. Besides, the boy certainly had the courage to be a Gryffindor. Anyone who went though that kind of pain every month would find a place among her lions.

One boy that she wasn't so sure about was Peter Pettigrew, the last in the first years' circle. He was a small plump child who kept looking at Sirius and James as though they were conquering heroes. He also seemed rather terrified of the older students. So why was he in Gryffindor? Minerva quickly squashed her uncharitable thoughts. The child was likely spending his first extended period away from home; the least she could do was give him the benefit of the doubt. The Sorting Hat never chose wrong, so Peter must have the qualities of a Gryffindor, even if it wasn't obvious.

The students were slowly beginning to realize that their Head of House was waiting for them to pay attention. Minerva took a deep breath, tried to shake the feeling that each of the children she had contemplated had a large role to play in the coming conflict, and launched into her lecture about the rules of Gryffindor House.

A/N: Yes, I'm rather talkative tonight. I hope to post another one-shot, called One Fateful Day, within the next week. It will detail the meeting of Leprechaun and Lily, and hopefully clear up some of the confusion. Please review and tell me if I made any mistakes.


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